


It's Only Sex

by butt_quack



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Car Sex, First Love, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, It's so minor I promise, Jack Zimmermann's Overdose, Jack Zimmermann's Suicide Attempt, M/M, Not as minor, Therapy, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:33:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23807698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butt_quack/pseuds/butt_quack
Summary: It takes 10 years, but Kent gets over Jack.
Relationships: Kent "Parse" Parson/Jack Zimmermann, Kent "Parse" Parson/Original Male Character(s), Kent/Therapy, Minor Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann - Relationship, but like not together anymore
Comments: 8
Kudos: 58





	It's Only Sex

**Author's Note:**

> CHECK OUT THE PLAYLIST THAT GOES WITH THIS FIC: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5oQuFTEqNQdoZ51JUA177o?si=3mcTkzeaQiuGipdBaGemmQ
> 
> My first ever post! I accept any and all constructive criticism and typo chirps. 
> 
> I read 4.19 and just wasn't feeling it. So, this.
> 
> This work contains non-graphic CSA and some discussion of alcoholism. If that's a no for you, please click away!
> 
> Thank you for reading!

**It’s Only Sex, Afterall**

It was only sex, Kent tells himself at 4 am. But he’s tearing up, so. Was it really?

Laying on his back, he lets the tears drip to his ears and onto the pillow before he vehemently wipes them away.  _ It’s sweat,  _ he thinks.  _ It’s only sweat and it was only sex. _

He finds himself in this position often. Awake at all hours of the night going over every painful memory his brain can scrounge up for him. This time, it’s memories of sex with Jack. Ruffling Jack’s hair, blue raspberry slushie so fresh on Jack’s tongue that he can taste it as they kiss in the back of Bad Bob’s car. The blue raspberry mixes with his own cherry slushie to make an entirely new flavor. Purple?

He remembers fucking Jack, no, this time he remembers being  _ fucked  _ by Jack. They had most of their sex in cars; a little private bubble where they could keep secrets easily. He pictures Bob’s large Volvo with seats that could flatten. Add some blankets and pillows and it’s basically a bed. Kent remembers the rhythm, Jack on top of him, their hands interlocking. Feeling safe as he gasps and Jack grunts. His toes curling as he’s on the edge, coming hard. Him instinctively wrapping his arms around Jack, the deep need to hold him. Jack chuckling and kissing his neck.  _ Fuck.  _

  
  


He groans and presses his face into the pillow.

  
  
  


**First Love / Late Spring**

At 17, Kent is in love and he cannot take it.

Jack . . . the way he plays hockey. They way they fit together like puzzle pieces on the rink. His blue eyes. His shaggy black hair. His toned body. His hockey bubble butt. His tenderness. His humor. His smile. Kent is overwhelmed and yet cannot get enough.

One late night, when they’re sharing a hotel room on yet another roadie, Kent whispers into the dark “I think I’m gay.” 

He hopes Jack is asleep, but no such luck. 

“Oh,” Jack whispers. After a long pause, he says “how do you know? That you might be, uh, gay?”

Kent summons the courage to tell him. Already confessed to liking guys; in for a penny in for a pound.

“Because I uh. Think you look good, or whatever. And I like you?”

“Oh. Oh!”

The silence is palpable and Kent swallows a lump in his throat. “Sorry if I made it weird, we can just forget it. Please don’t tell anyone--”

But then Jack is sitting on his bed. And leaning closer. And kissing him.

_ Oh  _ indeed.

***

Years later, the memory almost makes him smile. It was the first time he had ever come out to anyone.

  
  
  


**We’re Goin Down**

He’s driving on the highway and listening to the radio when a song plunges him into the past.

He’s 17 again.

***

“We’re going down, down, in an earlier round!” Kent shout-sings.

“But sugar we’re going down swinging,” Jack mouths.

They’re at a stoplight in the Volvo. Kent tells Jack to  _ crank it,  _ because he is jamming hard and trying to enjoy their last summer as kids. They do this every so often; in between hockey and panic attacks and parties where Kent drinks entirely too much, they have little moments to themselves. Just slushies, music, and the open road. It’s what he lives for.

They both know they’re gonna fuck tonight. Jack is looking for someplace private enough to park. The sun is setting, and the cloak of night will help them keep . . . whatever their thing is secret and safe.

Kent thinks of the lyric “sleeping for the wrong team” and chuckles to himself halfheartedly. He looks over at Jack and thinks  _ if he’s the wrong team I don’t want to be on the right one. _

  
  
  
  


**That Time We Fucked in The Parking Lot**

Kent has always had a tumultuous relationship with his appearance. One one hand, he’s all lean muscle, blonde hair, and a killer smile. On the other hand, he’s too small, has that awful cowlic, and a weird chin. He is confused as to how he feels like the sexiest and ugliest motherfucker on the planet, sometimes both within the same hour.

It was worse when he was 17 and slathering neutrogena on zits. One thing he liked about Jack is that the kid had bacne; it made him feel weirdly secure in his own blemishes. He didn’t find it  _ hot  _ persay, more of . . . endearing.

He remembers how it was back then. Hockey. Hockey. Hockey. Hockey. Jack. Hockey. He  _ loves  _ hockey, but sometimes found himself bored of his own life. But not with Jack. 

At 22, snow falling down as he sits in his parked car, he remembers the day they fucked in the parking lot.

***

Jack and Kent sing along to the radio until it becomes dark. Jack pulls into a deserted and dimly lit parking lot. 

“C’mon,” Jack says, motioning towards the backseat with a blush across his cheeks. Kent smiles.

In the back of the Volvo, they flatten the seats and lay in the trunk. Jack reaches into the backseat and grabs a pillow, a fleece blanket, and some lube. All a godsend. Jack and Kent look at each other, trying to silently communicate whose turn it is to top.

“You go. I want to feel you,” Kent breathes, taking off his shirt.

It’s not their first time, but it’s the first time they see each other completely  _ naked,  _ and that feels special to Kent. Intimate. 

“I’ve been uh . . . prepping myself lately. I’m ready,” Kent snickers. To prove it, he lays on his back, legs up, asshole to the sky.

Jack’s already huge blue eyes widen, and Kent has to stifle a laugh. 

“Oh wow. Kenny. Um. Wow.”

“Don’t make it weird Zimms” Kent says, jokingly mad.

Jack gets that determined look on his face that Kent has seen in so many games. It’s the, “I’m gonna kill it” face and Kent just thinks about how he’s about to be  _ railed.  _

Kent strains his neck to look out the car window, at the snow falling gently and their forgotten slushies, and hears the radio quietly play “Party in the USA,” which is his jam. He also hears Jack unwrap a condom and watches him slide it on.

Jack smiles that smile, the one that says  _ I'm safe, you’re safe. We’re here together.  _

And then Kent feels a lubed finger. Immediately, it is not enough.

“C’mon Zimms. Stop fucking around.”

“Haha. Little greedy there, eh?”

“Oh you Canadian fucker, just like. I’m beyond ready.”

Two fingers. Three, opening and closing like the aperture of a camera.

Then Jack eases himself inside of him. Kent feels that familiar arching of his neck, that “holy shit someone is fucking me” feeling, because no matter how many times he and Jack do this, it somehow always feels . . .novel. And this time even more so; only three other people have ever seen him naked, and his mother, a doctor, and a pedophile don’t count. Kent shakes his head, hoping to erase that last thought like his brain is an etch a sketch.

Jack, ever preceptive, notices. “You okay?”

“Yeah, let’s keep going.”

He squints his eyes shut, but then remembers how much he wants to  _ see  _ Jack, to take him all in.

Jack starts thrusting hot and fast, and Kent feels his head dip back into the pillow.

“Ah, Zimms. Zimms. C’mere”

Kent gently guides Jack’s hands down to the floor of the car. Jack gets the message and interlocks their fingers.

Kent lifts his legs and locks them around Jack’s torso. They continue like this, until Jack stops thrusting for a moment and takes it a step further; he sits up and wraps a hand on either of Kent’s thighs, guiding them up to his shoulders. Kent thanks every known and unknown God that hockey stretches have made him so flexible as Jack leans back into him. With his feet in the air, Kent and Jack stare into each other’s eyes as Jack continues thrusting. He is hitting  _ just  _ the right spot, and Jack knows it based on Kent’s sudden moan. Jack’s cocky about it too, with his little grin.

Jack slows down, and Kent almost wants to question him, but then Jack starts to fuck  _ harder.  _ Slow, hard heaves that both of them savor. Jack leans in and kisses him.

Kent cannot contain his gasps, and he breathes “ah” into Jack’s mouth with every slow thrust. Jack has found his rhythm and looks rather smug about it. He listens to his own gasps and feels each thrust through every part of his body, head bumping against the pillow and the trunk door. He feels it all; Jack’s hot body against him, their hands clasped, his dick rubbing up against Jack’s stomach. He feels himself getting close and tries to let Jack know, but then all of a sudden Jack comes with a shudder and a contented sigh. Before Kent can even move, Jack is pumping Kent’s dick until he comes too.

Kent looks up at Jack, expecting a soft smile, but all he sees is Jack’s wide eyes staring out the window in fear. Kent angles his neck around to see a  _ huge  _ moose walking past the car.

Kent almost shouts in alarm, but Jack shushes him. “Don’t look at it.”

The moose passes slow and peaceful through the snow, into the trees lining the empty parking lot.

They each let out a breath, then laugh.

***

Sitting in the lot at 22, he pulls out his phone and texts Jack, vindictively.  _ I forgot. Did I ever ask what you thought about the day we fucked in the parking lot? Anyways, miss you. _

  
  
  


**I Love You Always Forever**

Kent muses that he’s always been the type to fall way too in love way too fast.

***

There’s something about being with Jack that makes his heart swell and burn all at the same time. He almost can’t take it, but at the same time cannot get enough

Kent is one of those people that struggles with casual sex, even now. His brain automatically goes to “what are we?” His thing with Jack started that pattern of behavior.

Is Jack a friend he hooks up with? A secret boyfriend?

All he knows is that he loves him, and maybe Jack loves him too, and he wants them to be in love forever. He’ll do anything for Jack. He doesn’t yet see that this was the problem.

***

Looking back at this, Kent cannot believe he was childish enough to think he and Jack would love each other forever. Dumb, puppy love.

  
  
  
  


**Once More to See You**

It goes without saying that they had to be a tightly kept secret. They had reputations to uphold and careers to protect, afterall. People closely watching their every move.

***

One night in the car, as the setting sun hits Jack’s neck, Jack asks “do you ever feel like it’s too much? Like you don’t want to do it anymore? Uh, hockey I mean.”

Kent knows about Jack’s panic attacks, his medicines. They’re both a little in over their head; Jack with expectations from his father, Kent with expectations for his future with Jack.

“What? You  _ love _ hockey. Sometimes it’s overwhelming but, c’mon. Look at us! About to be pros! You’re gonna go first in the draft and everything will be okay. It’s a lot of pressure, and sure, some anxiety is normal. But pressure is what makes coal into diamonds.”

Jack smiles with his mouth but not his eyes. Kent feels helpless.

“Look, no matter what, you have me. I will always be here for you.”

He unsuccessfully tries to kiss Jack’s worries away.

***

Kent remembers this as the warning sign he missed. He still wonders, still humors the what ifs: what if he had told someone and Jack had gotten help sooner? What would have happened then? Kent teases himself with the idea that they’d be happy together in the NHL, planning how they would eventually come out. Together. If he had known what would happen, he would have savored that last kiss in the car a little more. What he wouldn’t give to have one more kiss with Jack.

  
  


**Return to the Big Quiet**

Kent finds Jack’s presumably dead body and the first thing he does is dry heave. The second thing he does is call 911 in a panic. The third thing he does is try to resuscitate Jack, placing his mouth over Jack’s lips that have started to blossom with blues. The floor is littered with the empty pill bottle, a few stray pills, and Jack’s vomit. 

The paramedics come and he watches in hysterics as they try to restart Jack’s heart.

Hours later, Jack is in intensive care, and Kent is waiting for a text to know whether or not his best friend and first love lives or dies.

He stays in his mother’s hotel room instead of the one he and Jack were sharing. 

“It’s my fault, it’s my fault, I should have known, I should have  _ seen-- _ ”

His mother sounds tired. Drunk. “Honey no, you couldn’t have known. You’re not responsible for what happens to him”

“Mom what if he dies, oh my god he’s gonna  _ die  _ and it’ll be all my fault--” Kent can’t keep talking, sobs taking over for a moment.

His mom holds him as he cries “no, no, no,” sobbing so hard his throat hurts. She raids the already scarce mini bar and gives him two travel size bottles of whiskey.

“Honey, ssssssh, ssssssh” she whispers as she tries to feed him whiskey.

“No, Ma, no,  _ no, _ ” he sobs.

She forces it on him anyway. 

He lets it burn down his throat. He lays down, sobbing against the pillow, and she holds him while humming and shushing.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay” she whispers over and over like a lullaby.

  
  


In the morning, she gives him cold spoons to press against his puffy eyes. The draft is in an hour. He goes first. All he can think about at the draft is how much love and support Jack is going to need after this. He’s so scared, but he knows he needs to be brave. He’ll be brave for the both of them.

***

Every time he remembers those feelings, it’s like his hand touched a white hot stove. He immediately has to pull away. His therapist Nicole says this is a normal response to trauma. It gets worse after his mom dies. The memory of Jack’s still, cold body haunts him and robs him of sleep for many nights. 

  
  
  


**Do You Still Love Me Like You Used To?**

Jack doesn’t text. Doesn’t call. Even after rehab. He calls Bob and Alicia. 

“Is Jack okay?” The question is always on his mind.

They, and everyone else, give him the same reassurances. “Jack is healing. He just needs time.”

He texts happy birthday’s, how are you’s, I miss you’s, where are you’s, why are you doing this you dick? Also I miss you’s. 

Nothing, save for the occasional one word response:  _ okay _

  
  


Kent has another question on his mind that only Jack can answer. 

He calls Jack 6 months after the overdose (straight to voicemail), crying “do you love me like you used to? Did you ever?”

No response. He gets drunk on the floor

***

At least now he has his cat to lick up his tears when he calls and gets floor drunk at 5 AM.

  
  
  


**I’ll Never Love Anyone Else**

Sometimes Kent worries Jack broke him.

He turns 21 and decides it’s time to get over it. He tries, really tries, to find someone else. He hooks up discretely in gay bars, some sleazy. He downloads and deletes Grindr at least 4 times. At 22, he even tries to fall in love again. But no matter how he goes about it, he just can’t. He sees Jack in everything. Sees his smile, his hair, his lifeless body.

So when he’s 23 he goes to Jack’s school. Makes a fuck up of himself, but gets in good with Jack’s cool friends. Why is Jack being such a dick to him?

When he’s 24, he goes again, this time with intentions a little more sinister. He says things meant to hurt. He doesn’t understand why he’s like this. How he can love someone so much then suddenly hate them. It makes no sense. But, then again, his life doesn’t make much sense these days aside from hockey.

So he and Jack kiss a bit in Jack’s room and then have a fight. He gives Jack a panic attack. Whatever.

Of course Kent feels a little bad when he gets back in the car, but Jack had it coming. The fucker ignores him for years and then expects Kent to just forget that? Please.

He can’t tell if he wants Jack to play for the Aces or just to love him again. Maybe love him for the first time. He’ll take anything, he knows he’ll never love anyone else. He’ll take anything.

They can be anything. 

  
  
  


**Till Death**

Kent’s mom dies 4 days after he turns 25. He always knew she would drink herself to death but he didn’t think it would happen so soon. He’s just bought a new house, and aside from his cat, it is unbearably lonely at night. When he gets the call about her passing, he alternates between angry and numb. Immediately following her funeral, Jack sends him a text with his respects. The first text in quite awhile.

The sessions with his Nicole get . . .  _ interesting,  _ following his mother’s death. It brings up a lot. She uses words like  _ anger, bargaining, PTSD, alcoholism. _

He and his mom unfortunately had a little too much in common. She was an alcoholic, he drinks too much. She was constantly concerned with money, he is often concerned with money (not that he has to be). She was touched as a kid, and he-- well. Yeah. He doesn’t tell anyone for years. Until Jack. Jack was his first  _ everything,  _ so it makes sense that Jack is the first one he told aside from his mom.

He remembers the first time they ever did more than kiss. He remembers it, with Jack’s hands on his body, how he froze. His whispered confessions, the hot shame in his chest and cheeks. He feels the same hot wash of shame remembering it now, but then he thinks of Jack’s hushed reassurance. Jack’s gentle hands, his voice asking “you okay? Is this okay? We can stop if you want to.” Kent aches.

***

Bob and Alicia send him an edible arrangement, and hug him at the funeral. Jack sends him that text:  _ I’m sorry for your loss, Kenny.  _

He doesn’t need a text. He needs someone there in the bed with him. He needs to be held. He needs to find a way to sleep again. He needs someone to sing in his ear and shush him, like his mom used to. He needs, he needs, he  _ needs.  _ He wants, still wants, still needs Jack.

***

Years later, on another night when he can’t sleep, Kent reads the text and tries not to cry. He wonders what his mother would think of him now and of the boy she always worried didn’t deserve her son.

  
  
  


**Night Shift**

“I still have dreams about him. Like, I can’t . . . I just can’t let go. Which is stupid because it’s been 9 years.”

Nicole purses her lips and in her trademarked therapy voice says “that is  _ not  _ stupid. But Kent, why do you think you can’t let go?”

“I don’t know! It’s been ages, and I know Zimms doesn’t want me anymore, but I still . . . it still hurts.”

“What hurts? That he’s not here now or the memories of when he was?”

Good question. If therapy were tennis, Nicole just scored a point.

“Both? I just miss him,” Kent sighs. “I miss my friend.”

“Because you were friends first. It’s hard to watch a friend go through something so painful and then not be able to talk to them about it.”

“Traumatic, even. Yada yada,” Kent jokes, a little over it.

Nicole laughs. “I guess I have said that a few times, yes. But I stand by it, Kent. What happened to you was traumatic, and you never got closure. That will hurt anyone.”

Kent blinks, and suddenly everything makes sense. “Closure,” he whispers.

“Hmm?” 

“Closure! I can’t let go because I never got closure!”

Point for Kent.

Nicole clenches her fists and waves her arms in celebration. “Yes! Exactly!”

“Did you know the answer already?” Kent accuses.

“Well, I didn’t  _ not  _ think you needed closure--”

Kent laughs. “And you let me flounder? Boo Nicole, boo.”

They both take a few breaths.

“So what now?” Kent asks.

“You tell me.” Nicole returns.

“I need closure. How do I get that?” 

Nicole puts on her therapy voice again. “Do you remember when I had you say everything you needed to say to your mother as if she were me? Let’s try that again. If Jack were here right now, what would you say to him?”

Kent takes a deep breath. “Can I have a minute?”

“Of course.”

Kent takes a moment to survey his memories of Jack. The last time they talked outside of hockey games was at that kegster back in 2014. The things he had said . . . it all came out so wrong. He meant to convince Jack to play with him again, tell Jack he still cared about him and that he wasn’t too fucked up to care about. But he got angry which made him petty, and well. He said some nasty shit. The guilt hits him in his ribcage, but he breathes through it.

What does he really want to say to Jack?

“Okay. I’m ready.”

“The floor is yours.”

Kent clears his throat.

“Jack. I miss you. I always miss you. It’s true I never got over you, but you never gave me the chance to. You shut me out. I was just trying to celebrate with you when I came to your school after winning the cup, and I was just trying to do what was best for both of us when I came to see you the second time. But I guess you didn’t want that. Sorry.” His tone is a little harsh, but he means what he says.

Nicole nods, hesitantly. “Okay. Good! Can we push further?”

“How?”

“Okay so you remember the diver analogy, right?” Nicole asks.

“Remind me.”

Nicole holds one arm horizontally. “Okay, so my hand is the coastline, and all this,” she gestures to below her hand, “is water. You and I are divers, and we’re going to dive into the water, the water being trauma. But you can’t go too far. We go in, stay there for a moment, and come back out. With practice, we can go deeper and deeper. You and I have been working on this for a long time, so let’s go deeper. Let’s see if we can hit the bottom, but then come right back out of it. Up for the challenge?”

Kent smirks, “twist my arm.”

Nicole straightens up. “Whenever you’re ready, Kent.”

“Jack. I miss you. A lot. I never got over you, but you never gave me the chance to.” 

He thinks of Nicole’s prompt to go deeper and takes a shuddering breath.

“I am so, so angry at you. And sad, But mostly angry. Jack, do you know what it was like, trying to resuscitate your cold body laying in a puddle of your own puke? Do you know what it was like to watch the paramedics try to restart your heart? To call your parents? Do you know about the nightmares I still have about it?”

He’s on a roll and can’t stop, the words just keep tumbling out. 

“You meant everything to me, and then you almost died, and then you ignored me so hard it was like you--” Kent feels a heat in his chest as tears well up, “it was like you did die. Ignoring all my texts . . . I was fucking in love with you and you completely shut me out and that wasn’t fair.” 

He’s full crying now, sobbing out “I know I hurt you but you hurt me first and that wasn’t fair. I just wanted you on my team, just wanted you, and you said  _ no. _ ”

Nicole lets Kent cry for what feels like forever. Eventually, the sobs taper off and he’s breathing steadily again.

“Jack. I’m sorry. For every time I hurt you. Especially when it was on purpose. But I think you owe me an apology too.”

He takes a deep breath. “And that’s all I have to say.”

Nicole nods. “Wow. first, excellent job, second, how did that feel.”

Kent wipes his eyes. “It felt shitty in the moment, but now I feel so much better. I just wish Jack were actually here to hear it.”

“Well, maybe you could write him a letter? Say what you said to me. Then you could choose to mail it to him or not.”

“That’s . . . not a bad idea. Thanks, Nicole.”

She smiles. “Anytime.”

  
  
  


**Speaking Terms**

Kent is on a drive to clear his mind when he gets a call.

_ Jack. _

He picks up, a little surprised that Jack is actually calling him.

“Hey. So I uh, got your letter.”

“Obviously, you’re actually calling me. Sorry, my therapist made me send it. You can ignore it. Congrats on coming out by the way, I don’t think I ever properly congratulated you and your boyfriend.”

Kent wants to tell Jack that it was  _ his  _ dream to come out by kissing each other on center ice, but he doesn’t.

“Thanks. Well, I uh, wanted to say. I’m sorry.”

There’s a long pause.

“I’m sorry for not talking to you after. I was embarrassed and wanted it all to go away, and I thought I’d already have a hard enough time getting into the NHL without our uh, past. But that wasn’t fair to you.”

Unsure of how to react, he just says “cool.”

He continues, “I uh. Said everything I needed to say in the letter, but for what it’s worth, I'm sorry too.”

“Yeah.”

Feeling brave, Kent asks “Hey, can we talk sometime? Catch up? It’s okay if you don’t want to but I miss my friend.”

“So you’ve mentioned,” Jack chirps. “But um, we’ll see. Maybe?”

“I’ll take maybe! I just want to be on speaking terms.”

He can hear Jack’s smile through the phone. “I think we’re up for that, eh?”

“Only took 10 years! Anyways, I’m almost home so I gotta go. Bye Zimms.”

“Bye Kenny.”

Kent hangs up and doesn’t ache. It surprises him.

He’s feeling a little optimistic, when his car, his beautiful Ferrari, is rear-ended. Motherfucker.

He steps out of his car to give the other driver a piece of his mind but is met with one of the cutest guys he has ever seen, panicked and babbling.

“I’m so sorry! I sneezed and it made me step on the gas. We should exchange info, right? I’m so sorry. I’m Max.”

  
  


**I Will Try to Forget About You**

Kent turns the invitation over in his hands. 

“What’s that?” Max asks him.

“Zimms, uh, Jack invited me to his wedding.”

“Oh! Well . . . that sure is something. Do you want to go?”

Kent mulls it over. “You know what? I kinda don’t.”

“That’s okay. We don’t  _ have  _ to go.”

Kent told Max all about Zimms one night as they laid in bed, whispering like when he had come out to Jack so many years ago.

“I’m . . . hm.”

“Are you surprised?”

“I guess? I mean, we’re on okay terms now. Maybe we should?”

“Honestly, it’s up to you.”

Kent thinks for a moment, torn. 

“I spent, like . . . a  _ lot  _ of time trying to please Jack and worrying about him. Plus there will be a lot of drinking there, and I’m still trying to get comfortable with being sober . . . I think we shouldn’t.”

Max smiles “I’m glad you’re taking care of yourself. Make sure to brag to Nicole about it.”

Kent pantomimes holding a phone. “Hello, Nicole? Yeah Max told me to call you. I think I did a self care. Can I have a gold star?”

They laugh. He probably will call Nicole later to brag.

_ “But  _ we should send a gift.”

“Okay! What do you have in mind?” Max asks.

“Edible arrangement?”

Max laughs. “Why do you always go to that?”

“It’s the best way to say thank you, congratulations, and sorry for your loss!”

“And which one are we honoring?”

“All three!”

Max cups Kent’s cheek ever so softly and kisses him.

  
  
So they send an edible arrangement. Kent, ever the dramatic and gaudy, requests a special order. Chocolate dipped pineapple, and bananas with melon balls at the base. He really hopes they get it, but just from seeing the mock-up picture, It’s perfect. And for the finishing touch, a card that reads:  **_Happy marriage! Thanks for the invite. Enjoy your life :3 meow_ **


End file.
